Cousin Connections

Yesterday, as I was looking through a bin of old photos for pictures of my mom, I came across some taken of my cousins here in Moose Jaw a lifetime ago. These two are the only cousins I have real childhood memories of; we lost touch, for the most part, after my family left Saskatchewan.

My parents loved these boys and, as they’re both older than me, they have family memories I don’t. When I shared some of the found photos with them yesterday, we got to talking (read: texting) about people and situations and it was a sweet, sweet thing. I had photos they hadn’t seen before. They identified people I had forgotten, but as soon as they named them I said “of course!” to myself.

So often, over the years, I have rued the decision my parents made to move to B.C. and grieved things and people we left behind here in Saskatchewan. There was good reason, at the time, but much was lost as a result of the move. Connection, to people and place, the most important thing. It must have been hard for them to leave so much behind. Although most of these people are long gone from this world, shadows of memories of them still live in the back of my mind.

Coming home means the world to me.

One afternoon this week another cousin and her husband stopped in for a visit. She’s a birth cousin. I just met her a few years ago, but feel a strong connection, and having them stop in for coffee on their way through Moose Jaw is another priceless gift coming home to Saskatchewan has given. More cousins from my birth family live not far from here in Saskatchewan; I expect to see some of them before too long as well.

It’s so good to be home at long last.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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